


Laced for Display

by Nomanono



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: #nsfwyurioweek, Cam Girl Yuri, Exhibitionism, M/M, Piercings, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Temporary Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 14:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12110682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomanono/pseuds/Nomanono
Summary: It's Yuri's first time center stage at the club. Chris photographs the entire scene, and Otabek gives Yuri's body away for payment.





	Laced for Display

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW Yurio Week Day 6: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism
> 
> Inspired by the phenomenal banner art for the contest.
> 
> This is horrifically edited and way below my normal quality bar. I'M SORRY Y'ALL. I'm jet-lagged and dying, but if you ever wanted more Chris/Yuri, oh boy.

They’d been going to the club for over a year now, but this was the first time Yuri was in the spotlight, kneeling on a circular table covered in black velvet cloth, naked for everyone to see. Beside him, doing one last sterilization pass on Yuri’s back, was Ivan, a long time club member who’d chatted up Otabek months ago, back when Yuri was considering poking metal through his cock. While that particular drive had never played out, Ivan had brought up another idea, a temporary showcase of Yuri’s body and his own work.

Chris had even flown up and gotten special permission from the club to photograph.

Chris circled the pair as Ivan marked Yuri’s back: pairs of lines on either side of his spine, ending just above his ass. He clicked a closeup when Ivan stepped back to evaluate his work, making only a minute adjustment before he was satisfied. 

“Ready?” Ivan asked, hand on Yuri’s hip, eyes on Otabek. 

Otabek nodded his permission: “He’s ready.”

Ivan was efficient; he'd been doing this for over two decades. Chris captured the moment when he pinched the first line on Yuri’s back and slid the needle through.

Yuri took a breath, quicker than normal, and exhaled like a sigh. His eyes lingered on Otabek, soaking up his owner’s solidity, focusing on the sound of Chris’ camera as the next needle went through him. These piercings where high on Yuri’s back, made him sit up straight like Lilia was watching him. He tried not to move his shoulder blades, unsure how the needles would feel embedded in his skin. Would he feel the tightness of them? A pinch?

The needles developed a rhythm as they continued. Halfway through, when Yuri was getting flush, when he was hard, Ivan paused to wipe down his lower back. 

“Still good?” Ivan asked Otabek.

“He’s good,” Otabek said.

There weren't many nerve endings in Yuri’s back. He’d actually been skeptical, at first, when Otabek told him it wouldn’t hurt as much as the tattoo. Then Otabek touched Yuri’s back with the tips of his fingers. 

“How many fingers?” Otabek asked. 

“What?”

“How many fingers are touching your back right now?” Otabek asked. 

“Three?”

Otabek moved his hand to the side, revealing two fingers. 

“What?!” Yuri exclaimed. But Otabek did it again, and again, and Yuri’s guesses in the 2-5 range were little better than chance. It was frightening to know he had such minimal sensitivity. 

It was convenient when getting pierced.

Chris followed the progression with his lens, pausing to capture Yuri’s delicate hand held safely in Otabek’s thicker, darker version. Yuri’s back was a canvas and the cross-stitch nearly complete. Each puncture created a light throb, and now they stacked together; Yuri could almost feel the swell of his blood cascading down his back with every pump of his heart. 

“Done,” Ivan said. 

Yuri let out a breath, sinking into the strange tightness. 

“Move around.”

Lifting his arms above his head, Yuri found the sensation not as jarring or disquieting as he’d expected. It was… odd, but more like little knots of tension after practice. He moved his arms like a ballerina, joints soft but arms held aloft, middle finger floating close to his thumb. Every motion he made was graceful and beautiful. 

He was the art on display tonight, after all. 

Yuri nodded his comfort and Ivan pulled out the black satin ribbon. Each piercing looked almost like a safety pin, easy for the ribbon to slide through. Ivan patterned the overlap, always right on top of left, and made sure the ribbon laid flat without bunching or twisting. It added a slight pull to the piercings, made Yuri that much more aware of their ache, but he didn’t care. 

He felt so beautiful. 

He could feel Chris’ heavy gaze alongside the click of the camera, _knew_ just from Chris’ pace and angles that he was aroused by Yuri’s body. 

Yuri loved few things more than making others feel good.

When Ivan was finished, Yuri’s back looked like a corset. It ended in a bow just above his ass, the long tails curling beneath his cheeks. Ivan even cut the ends of the ribbon like forked tongues, that much more decorative, before standing back to check his work. 

“Beautiful,” Otabek approved, and Yuri’s chest swelled as the crowd applauded, cat-called.

“He is ready,” Ivan nodded in agreement. Yuri didn’t see what Ivan did, but suddenly the circular table he was on began to rotate.

The velvet soaked up the spotlight, making Yuri stand out in sharp contrast, and the ribbons sharper still against his pale skin. Yuri moved tentatively at first, arms coming above his head again, threading his fingers through his hair and gazing over his shoulder with sultry eyes designed for Chris’ camera. Otabek unhooked his leash so he wouldn’t tangle as Yuri twisted, swinging his body back around as the table turned the corset out of view. 

He rose upon his knees, then settled to one side, propped on his arm. His lower legs curled over the edge of the table, toes idly pointing and then relaxing, showing off his ballerina poise for the crowd. The table turned and Yuri twisted to his other side, laying on his stomach and then tucking his knees beneath him so the audience could see the corset upside down. From there he extended his legs, almost a downward dog, the flexibility of his body letting him rest his forearms on the velvet. 

When he stood upright his whole body rolled with the motion, and then he walked the edge, keeping pace with the table so he stayed in place, ass swaying beneath the lacing.

He looked like an angel on the runway, hands sliding down his sides, cock hard between his legs. He walked on his toes, catlike, luxuriating in the constant click of Chris’ camera, the whistles and appraising murmurs of the crowd.

Victor and Yuuri were in that crowd, watching him, following the drift of the ribbons over his ass. The lights on him were too bright to make out faces, but he could imagine them: Yuuri dressed in his feminine miniskirt, Victor draped on him, always holding or cuddling or leaning on his husband. But their eyes were for him. They probably couldn’t look away. 

Yuri sat again, leaning over as he passed Otabek to steal a kiss. 

Otabek reached behind Yuri, strumming the pierced corset like guitar strings. Yuri’s spine rose with the motion, a pale cat in the spotlight. As the table continued to spin Yuri held out his arms to his owner. Otabek lifted him, let Yuri’s legs twine around his waist. He carried his boy to the edge of the audience. 

“You can pet and pluck, but no pulling,” Otabek said, offering Yuri’s back. 

Yuri felt the sudden warmth of foreign hands on his back, strangers saying his club name. He leaned on Otabek’s shoulder, expression pleasant, content, serving his master. The throb had almost faded at this point, and Yuri was left with just the delicious zing as the needles pulled on his skin, exacerbated by every curious caress.

Two hands cupped his ass and squeezed. He was about to growl at them for the over-reach, but as his head twisted Victor’s mouth was there to meet him. 

Victor’s hand was in his hair: tightening, pulling. 

Chris’ camera was clicking.

When Victor pulled back, Yuri blinked in a daze. Otabek drew him back to the table and laid him out, letting him spin prone, curled up like a babe with his corset showing for the world. 

They weren’t in the club basement, the wet area, where Yuri could come. His cock would stay hard. 

He moved upright for a final round of pictures, including one with Ivan for promotion. Yuri turned his face away, a hand on his neck hiding his tattoo.

“Time to take them out,” Ivan said. 

“One moment,” Chris countered. He stepped up to their circle, hand cupping Yuri’s ass and squeezing. “It would be a shame to lose our decoration so soon. Perhaps they could stay, for tonight?” 

“Tonight?” Yuri asked. 

“You’re Chris’ tonight,” Otabek said. “His payment for the photographs.” 

Yuri flushed, looking over at the Swiss skater, who offered a wink and a kiss. 

“As long as I know what to do, I can take care of our little Tiger.”

Ivan took a minute of convincing, during which time Otabek curled his hand around Yuri’s waist and pulled him aside. 

“Chris wants to take you to back to his hotel room. You’ll spend the night with him and let him do as he pleases with you,” Otabek said. 

“Yes, Sir,” Yuri replied. 

Otabek’s eyes softened, pulling Yuri into his arms and holding his boy close. He minded the piercings down his back and the beautiful ribbon holding them all together. “You’ll be okay by yourself?”

“Chris is good to me, Sir,” Yuri assured his dom, kissing Otabek’s jawline. 

“Good boy.” 

“Yuri,” Chris called. “Are you ready?” 

Yuri twisted around, surprised at the way the ribbons pulled, groaning in pleasure as he fluttered to Chris’ side.

“I’m ready, Sir,” Yuri smiled. Chris looked surprised, at first, by the title, but then he slung his arm around Yuri’s shoulder and led him away. 

When Yuri went to change, Chris told him to leave his jacket off. He came back in his tight black jeans, leopard print shoes, and the corset ribbons down his back. In honor of Chris, he’d abandoned his briefs, tucking them into his jacket pocket. Ever the gentleman, Chris took the jacket on one arm, Yuri on the other, and paraded him away. The night was cool enough that Yuri wanted to hunch and shiver, but he kept his chin high, spine straight, the sensation of the metal pins made all the clearer by the cold. 

Another minute and they were in a cab, Yuri sitting in Chris’ lap: in part so the corset wouldn’t be pushed against the seat, in part so he could ensure Chris got the most satisfaction out of his payment.

“Do you have plans for me tonight? Or should I just make you feel good?” Yuri murmured, nuzzling his nose to Chris’ cheek, exploring the Swiss’ stubble. Chris captured Yuri’s lips, kissing him with a marked sensuality that was unique from any of Yuri’s other partners. His lips were fuller, thicker, and wetter. Yuri hummed into the kiss, letting his tongue escape to explore Chris’ mouth.

Chris purred as he pulled back: “Yuri Plisetsky.” 

“Sir,” Yuri rumbled in response.

Chris’ hand slid down the back of Yuri’s jeans, and Yuri’s eyes widened. The cab driver wouldn’t be able to see, not unless he twisted around to look, but the tension lingered.

Without any underwear, Chris’ fingers had a direct path to Yuri’s asshole. His middle finger navigated the furrow of Yuri’s ass, watching him as he teased the crinkled muscle. It was miraculously tight, given everything Yuri went through. 

“Still waxing, _mon petit tigre_?” Chris smirked.

When Yuri released his breath it puffed warm against Chris’ forehead.

“I’m a quick learner,” Yuri smirked. 

They came to a stop light, and Chris withdrew his hand enough to ostensibly just be rubbing Yuri’s lower back. As soon as the car started moving again, he wiggled his finger back in. Yuri’s body welcomed it, face adopting its focused seriousness as he flexed the muscle open. The angle shouldn’t have hit Yuri’s prostate, but somehow Chris’ slithering digit pressed all the way in and extended _just so_ until electricity crackled down Yuri’s spine.

He wanted to moan, but instead he hugged Chris’ head to his chest and pressed his lips into his hair while Chris bit his nipple. Yuri fought the urge to gasp, to inhale sharp as a blade. He stayed silent while Chris’ tongue rolled that sweet bud of flesh, a pea-sized bundle of nerves.

Chris pushed back on Yuri’s chest when they were rounding the corner to the hotel, wiping his finger on the inside of Yuri’s pants. He stepped out first, then draped the jacket over Yuri’s shoulders as they entered the hotel. It was off as soon as they got in the elevator, Chris snapping photos in the infinity mirrors. Yuri’s laced back cascaded into eternity while Chris tugged down the back of Yuri’s jeans to show the promise of his ass. 

“That one won’t come out,” Chris sighed, but he was smiling still, holding Yuri’s waist with one hand. “Too dim in here, and too shaky to bump the exposure. We’ll just have to remember it ourselves.”

Yuri glanced over his shoulder and studied the lacing on his back. It was the first time he’d really gotten to see it up close, the ribbons framed by the faint red points where the metal entered and exited his skin. Yuri tried to commit it to memory, and then, just as the elevator was dinging, he lifted his phone and took a selfie for posterity.

“Have you ever watched yourself on video?” Chris asked, sliding his fingers across Yuri’s ribbons. 

He hadn’t. 

It didn’t take long for Chris to set up his tripod, hook up an HDMI cable to the TV, and mount a digital camera. 

“It’s not recording,” Chris said. “Just displaying the output, like a mirror. What do you think?”

Yuri was mesmerized. 

He’d never seen himself from these angles. Not live. Even when they had sex in the practice room, with its wall of mirrors, Yuri was always looking at himself, always had to be facing his reflection. Now, the camera was behind him, showing off the view of his laced back and jutting glutes and the points of his heels as he tucked his feet beneath him. He rolled his hips in a slow circle, watching his ass respond. He could see the side of his face as he gazed at the TV, admired the line of his jaw. 

“ _Tres belle, no?_ ” Chris asked. He loved Yuri’s blush, loved the flush of it between his pectorals. “Get undressed, angel.” While Yuri complied, Chris sifted through his luggage, pulling out a series of toys. Victor had helped him with the selection; they’d had an enjoyable shopping trip together and an even more enjoyable session afterward.

When Chris turned back to Yuri, he was still staring at himself. 

“Now you know how everyone else feels when they see you,” Chris said. He trailed his fingers down Yuri’s side, from the bulb of his shoulder down the fluid line of his ribcage. He pushed his thumb into the softness under Yuri’s last rib and delighted in the resulting twist, the tertiary gasp as it pulled at his piercings. 

It also made Yuri’s ass tighten, and when he saw that in the video his mouth opened and he repeated the motion. He humped his hips slowly, pumping them in the air. The meaty muscles clamped together and then relaxed, clamped and relaxed, and Chris smirked as he realized Yuri was paying absolutely no attention to him, infatuated with his reflection. 

“You look like a cam girl,” Chris chuckled. “Here.”

The first toy looked like a long pink antenna, thin and rubbery, bouncing in Chris’ hand even as he brought it over. One end was more bulbous, and Chris slipped it into his mouth, sucking on it for several seconds before lowering it to Yuri’s ass. 

“What is it?” Yuri asked as he relaxed, body readily accepting the thin, tapered toy.

“Lots of the cam girls use them,” Chris said. “See for yourself.” 

Yuri pumped his hips again, and the rubbery antenna - that brilliant pink usually reserved only for sex toys and barbies - picked up every little motion and magnified it. The antenna jiggled, the neon tip bouncing up and down as Yuri humped the air. He tried humping faster, wound up discovering a way to pump that made his ass reverberate. 

“Twerking now?” Chris laughed. 

But Yuri was too fascinated to be embarrassed. 

“Can we take a video?” Yuri asked, finally turning his attention back to Chris. “I want to show Yuuri.” 

Chris was naked, proving just how self-obsessed Yuri had been. At Yuri’s request he went quiet, climbing onto the bed behind Yuri. 

“I… I can’t guarantee anything if it’s digital,” Chris said. “I can protect it as much as I can but if it gets stolen or hacked…” 

“I know,” Yuri said. “I know it could go bad. But I want…”

Chris flicked the end of the antennae. Yuri felt every minute vibration as the pink rubber sprung with the motion. He moaned: “I want Katsudon to see.”

“Alright,” Chris said. “You want to make your first sex tape?” 

_That_ made Yuri flush, but he nodded his head. “Yeah. Can you film me? And can you — oh —” Yuri ducked his head, self conscious as he remembered _he_ wasn’t supposed to be the star tonight. “I know I’m supposed to be payment. You can take whatever you’d like from me for the video.”

Chris went the camera and clicked apart a piece of the tripod, like a remote. As he pressed the buttons, the view on the TV shifted, then zoomed in. 

“Deal,” Chris said, and suddenly a red light appeared near the camera’s lens. “Show off your new dance, kitten.” 

Yuri bounced his hips again. The antenna kept moving long after he’d stopped, and he felt the residual motion inside him, vibrating against his prostate. It took him several tries to find that rhythm that made his ass shimmy, but when he did, it was clear as day. Yuri’s face split into a proud grin, shining in the periphery of the frame. 

“Remember how to do that,” Chris said, “so I can feel it later.” 

“Sir,” Yuri acknowledged. 

Chris let him show off for another minute before he joined him in frame. He helped Yuri kneel upright, putting his piercings on display. The dark ribbons broke the creamy spill of Yuri’s back into diamonds and angled brackets. Chris bit the ribbon in his teeth, pulled it back ever so delicately while Yuri gasped and arched. 

The antenna trembled, amplifying the tension in Yuri’s ass.

When Chris released the ribbon it snapped back, the taut pull redistributing down the corset. The tail of the bow hung on either side of the antenna, framing Yuri’s asshole and its wriggling occupant. 

With a quick tug, the bow came free. Chris took up both ends like reins, drawing them back, forcing Yuri to bow over (a simple feat for the ballerina) to avoid the stinging tension. Chris’ hand wrapped around Yuri’s newly exposed throat, stroking the taut pipe of it before his fingers threaded into Yuri’s hair and pulled. 

“ _Sir_ ,” Yuri groaned, but his eyes lingered on the TV, on the sight of himself, on how beautiful he looked. 

He thought, bizarrely, of how proud Lilia would be, to see his body like this.

“Let’s try a new angle,” Chris said, guiding Yuri to curl up on his side with his ribbons visible, his antenna like an exotic, alien tail.

“Time to come undone, I think.”

Chris hooked his finger into the topmost bar of the ribbon, between the highest pair of piercings. As he pulled, two things happened: the tension against the rest of the piercings increased, tugging at Yuri’s back, and the black satin stroked Yuri’s skin as it unwound through the piercings, snake tongues licking his bare flesh. When the ribbon finally came free, Chris caressed Yuri’s back with it, and Yuri couldn’t help remembering the exquisite torture of Chris’ collaring scene. 

“Please,” Yuri whispered. He wasn’t sure he could suffer that sensation again. 

“Don’t worry, _mon petit chat_ ,” Chris soothed.

He bound Yuri’s wrists together with it instead, tying them with the same beautiful bow. 

He helped Yuri to hands and knees again, leaving the metal embedded for Yuri to feel, for Chris to flick. Chris moved between Yuri’s legs, taking the tip of the antenna in his mouth and sucking it like a cock before his teeth latched on and he pushed it deeper into Yuri’s body. 

The TV showed all the glistening detail of Chris’ wet lips and Yuri’s puckered asshole, the way it pulsed with pleasure, the shift from convex to concave with every thrust. 

Each time Chris went deeper, until his lips touched Yuri’s ass, the antennae only visible in little flashes as Chris’ tongue twirled and swirled around the toy, against Yuri’s body. Yuri found himself breathing heavily, cock painfully hard, staring at himself and imagining how hot Yuuri would think it was. Victor, too, really. He wanted to be between them when they watched it, mouth on Victor, Yuuri inside him. He wanted to make his partners feel so incredible. He wanted to show them what he could do, he wanted — 

Chris withdrew the antenna after one final flick, replacing it with a much larger intrusion. Chris’ cock had more girth than anyone Yuri had had before, save perhaps Emil. It wasn’t the physical sensation of his ass stretching out that Yuri loved, but being able to see it, for the first time, in remarkably high resolution.

“Look,” Yuri whispered, and Chris zoomed in for him, the screen suddenly filled with nothing but the globes of Yuri’s ass and the bulging width of Chris’ cock. “F-fuck, Chris…” 

“Do you like that?” Chris gave his ass a smack and Yuri watched it jiggle.

“Try your twerking again,” Chris said, zooming out enough it would be visible.

Yuri bounced his ass. It was much harder with Chris’ cock impaling him, almost comical, and they both wound up snickering in amusement until, with a gasp, Yuri found that rhythm. 

“ _Merde_ ,” Chris choked. His gut reaction was to grab those hips, squeeze them as they shook and jounced. But he didn’t want to wreck Yuri’s shimmy. He never wanted this to end.

If he’d been a few years younger, he would have come then and there, but he held still, bit his lip, let Yuri do all the work.

And Yuri seemed more than happy with his newfound talent. 

Chris rotated them, exposing a clearer side view to the camera. With one hand he grabbed Yuri’s ankle, lifting up his leg to show the camera Yuri’s crotch, their connection from a new angle. The other hand took over around Yuri’s cock, pressing the remote into Yuri’s bound hands first. 

Yuri zoomed out, getting both their bodies into the shot. 

He’d watched other people fuck him before, stared at Yuuri or Victor as they had their way with him. He’d never watched himself get fucked before, never gotten to see the way the blush looked on his cheeks or the heavy-lidded neediness as he laid pliant beneath his partner. Chris looked so powerful, bucking into him, holding his ankle, somehow managing to stroke him, too.

“Chris,” Yuri whimpered. “I need —” 

“I know,” Chris said. He flipped Yuri onto his back, watched his spine arch as the piercings pressed into the duvet. “I know, kitten. Don’t hold back. Let Yuuri see you.” 

_Yuuri!_ Yuri splattered cum in ropey wet lines across his chest, ass spasming around Chris and making the Swiss skater curse out his own orgasm.

He left Yuri messy and squeezed when he pulled out, leaving a little droplet of white leaking from the boy. 

He zoomed in for posterity.

“Thank you,” Yuri murmured, ripping his gaze away from his reflection. Chris crawled over him, Yuri’s wrists still bound above his head, and kissed him, slow and passionate in the afterglow.

They didn’t stop the recording until Chris had drawn the metal out of Yuri’s skin, until Chris had kissed each of the little bandages, until Yuri had whimpered and wiggled and incited Chris to hardness once more, and Chris had taken him, filled him, and left him even messier than before.

Then, when they’d had their fill, when they were exhausted, the red light finally flicked off. Chris unbound Yuri’s wrists and kissed him until he was calm and sated.

“We’ll bring it to them tomorrow?” Yuri asked, hopeful.

“Tomorrow,” Chris promised.


End file.
